


Unraveling

by RobespierreforFrance



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Based on a plotbunny, Dwobbit Bilbo Baggins, F/M, Gen, M/M, have some idea where this is going
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2018-09-16 19:16:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9286130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobespierreforFrance/pseuds/RobespierreforFrance
Summary: I'm a little nervous about righting this because it's my first Hobbit fic without an OC as a main character. So if I make any mistakes, please let me know and I'll see if I can change it.:)





	1. Letters

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Unknit Yarn](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3061943) by [Tirnel (Iona)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iona/pseuds/Tirnel). 



> I'm a little nervous about righting this because it's my first Hobbit fic without an OC as a main character. So if I make any mistakes, please let me know and I'll see if I can change it.
> 
> :)

 

 

 

Bilbo Baggins stared at the large pile of letters before him. Secret letters that his mother didn't know he found stashed behind the large barrel of his father's favourite wine that hadn't been touched in many years. Letters that he knew were addressed to someone he had never met but knew he was connected to.

It wasn't a secret to him that he wasn't a full Baggins. Oh yes, he was, indeed, part Took, that he wouldn't deny. But there was a part of him that wasn't even hobbit to begin with. But while it was apparent to him that he didn't look entirely hobbitish, no siree bob. He had, selfconciously in his tween years, worried over the fact that his amber curls weren't as tight as the others (for he thought they were more close to being waves rather than ringlets) and his ears were more round than point. His nose as only a quarter inch large than the other lads and lasses in the Shire and don't even mention the size of his feet and the small amount of hair he had curled upon them. He felt like a disgrace to even be with his father and mother in Bag End.

It wasn't until he reached majority that his mother had told him about the rather large secret that unknowingly haunted his worries. His father had only recently passed during the summer of last year and his mother, still feeling the loss of a rather dear friend, had broken her oath to keep her secret as such.

And it all boiled down to the letters, already in yellowing envelopes with his mother's stamp on cracking wax, with his mother's loopy handwriting printed sloppily across the parchment.

Bilbo glanced over his shoulder towards his closed door, checking to make sure it was indeed shut, before turning back and picking up one of the many letters he had quickly set upon his desk. It was one of the older ones, packed thickly with mentions of possibly himself or his mother's daily tasks he wouldn't know (for while he may not be entirely hobbit, he still had bloody manners). The ink was slowly beginning to fade but it was still very legible despite the age.

Thinking back to his mother's words, only a season ago, he wondered how he could have possibly missed the signs. His physical appearance, for one, was most likely a dead give away, though no other hobbit seemed to notice and if they did they never mentioned it enough to create a wildfire of rumors. Another was the fact that he was definitely a bit stronger than even the strongest of farmers in Hobbiton. He had once lifted the back end of a carriage to help fix a broken wheel and thought nothing of it. Bilbo was sure there were more clues, but he was getting sidetracked.

His father, by blood, was the subject in all these letters. Bilbo pondered why his mother never sent his father, by blood, any of them and if she had, why hadn't she gotten a response. It hurt to think that he was possibly to blame, though he never met the man. And, even though Bilbo was truly curious about his birth father, he had already grown and matured with a father. Bungo might not have been entirely warm, but he raised Bilbo with a steady hand and taught him as much as he could. Bilbo understood that his father, Bungo, wasn't much of an affectionate hobbit, but he had his own ways of showing his love and care.

But he was getting sidetracked once more. 

Setting the letter back down with the others, the amber haired lad turned in his chair, looking out his round bedroom window that overlooked most of the fields and other smials in Hobbiton. If he squinted hard enough, in the very distance he could see the small outline of mountains or really large hills (for he wasn't entirely sure).

A sudden thought, most likely inspired by the Took side of his blood, stirred in his mind when he glanced back towards the pile. If... If he were to send the letters, possibly while he was out on a long walk, a journey some might call, and just so happened to pass one of the Rangers or Bounders that walked the edge of the Shire while carrying said letters, well, who was he to do other than ask them to send them to the owner in Ered Luin where they belonged, for he was sure there was a rule that whoever the letter it was addressed to owned it as well.

Without letting his Baggins side, a side he gained through most of his life, overrule his other side, Bilbo grabbed all the letters and stashed them into a small bag before rushing to the pantry to grab a few snacks for his journey. His mother, sweet Belladonna Baggins nee Took, looked at him strangely as she sat in the large chair in the family room with her needle and thread, before she saw him grab his walking stick and went back to her task. It was known through nearly all of Hobbiton that the lad rarely went on walks without it, just like his father, by name.

With large, quick steps, it took Bilbo nearly five hours to reach the edge of Hobbiton, where a Bounder was leaning against a tree as he ate Luncheon. Brushing off his maroon jacket and beige pants, trying to look as presentable as possible, Bilbo walked up to the hobbit and hoped for the best.

"Excuse me, sir, if you possibly don't mind, but I do hope I'm not interrupting anything too important," Bilbo began. When he saw that he had the hobbit's attention, he continued. "But you see, I understand if you possibly can't for I know how busy you Bounders can be, protecting us and all from rather nasty business and dealing with the Rangers, I have these letters that I simply must mail to the Blue Mountains. I have some contacts there that simply must read these, for they're very urgent, but if you can't, again, I understand."

His rather quick words seemed to do the trick, for the Bounder smiled and accepted the bag without too much question, for he was definitely a Brandybuck and nobody was weirder than a Brandybuck other than a Took and both knew it wasn't best to question someone else's rather odd motives, for they had rather odd ones as well.

Bilbo bid the hobbit a quick goodbye, though not without another lengthy and Baggins worthy paragraph of praise and thankfulness, and made his way back to Bag End. He knew he would arrive by Supper, having missed Luncheon and Dinner by the time he passed his halfway mark, but he didn't mind. It was probably foolish to even think that he'd come to see them, but Bilbo didn't mind the possibility of his father, by blood, walking through the Shire, looking for Bag End and for him and his mother.

He arrived home a little later than he planned, but his mother gave him a large Supper anyways after a long rant about being home before Dinner (even though he was definitely not a fauntling anymore). He ate, bid his mother a goodnight, and went to bed, dreaming of all the possibilities that could happen in only a few months time.

 


	2. Ered Luin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Letters arrive two months after being sent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might delve a little bit into the "mystery father" in Ered Luin at some point in this story, I'm not entirely sure. I mostly had planned to focus more around Bilbo for most of the story, but considering that it's in third person, there's a chance I'd be able to steal the point of focus a little for the dwarrows.
> 
> So this chapter is mainly in Ered Luin and focused on dwarrows and maybe I'll bring it back around the Bilbo, like I've been wanting.
> 
> :)

 

 

It was no doubt that Ered Luin was a beautiful place, crafted over the years by skilled hands that hollowed out the rather large mountain range that separated Eriador from Beleriand. All - whether they're dwarf, elf or man - had no doubts that there was no mountain range that rivaled such beauty on the east side of Middle Earth. Gems covered the hollowed walls though there were more metals rather than actual gems like diamonds and sapphires. It was still a sight to behold, if one that did not live in such lavish luxuries walked in.

But it's beauty didn't stop there. Along with the few gems and many precious metals that littered the caves, dwarrow of both genders were held to a high regard of jewels. Whether they be of a lower district or nearly royalty, those that were lucky enough to be seen as the standard or above of beauty where looked upon with awe. Many had suitors at their doors if they weren't already in a relationship with their craft, but very few were ever chosen.

Among Ered Luin's, or the Blue Mountain's, beauty - both inside and out - were a small family of dwarrow, brothers. Of course, to say their family was small in comparison to other dwarrow families was like saying a full grown warg was really a small puppy. The dwarf race was a imbalanced ratio of men to women, with the latter being much smaller compared to the former. Meaning that the birthrate was also low. For a family to have three children was like a family of men having seven or an elf having two. It was an honor on their family (which would be even bigger if one or more were a daughter instead of a son).

But I digress.

The family of dwarrow were considered one of the many beauties of the mountain. The eldest, with hair that shined like the finest of mithril and braided into the most delicate of braids, was the head of the family. He once had the purest of amber, which attracted many to their door when he was a younger lad, and while he still had more suitors running to their door because of the new color, he was mostly devoted to his craft. His younger brother still had his amber locks, an envy among many in the mountain, but, thanks to his rather sneaky ways and sticky fingers, did not seem to attract the same attention as his brother. While he was still considered beautiful, handsome even, he had no interest in anything that was even remotely related to settling down. That brings us to the youngest. Like his brothers, his hair was the same gorgeous amber, much shorter and not as elaborate as his elder brothers, and simple. While still young, he didn't have the same responses as his brothers and he was fine with that.

This brings the scene to the three surrounding a neatly wrapped pile of letters sitting innocently on the table. The eldest was pacing, eyes trailing occasionally to the letters that had mysteriously shown up early that morning. All of them - okay most of them - were addressed to him in handwriting he could recognize anywhere. His hands were jittery, as if they were fiddling with something that wasn't there, shaking in the air as he did his invisible task. His face was twisted in a multitude of emotions as thoughts rushed through his mind.

His brothers weren't as troubled as he, though they two were very curious as to the owner of the letters. They had sharper eyes and noticed things much better than their elder, seeing the fading ink on the older, yellow parchment and the thicker ink on the more crisp looking papers. There was one, definitely newer, that was addressed in a different set of handwriting that was not as loopy, more slanted, and obviously in a rush compared to the rest.

"What does this mean?" the older brother muttered, finally breaking the silence between them all. He finally stopped his frantic pacing, stopping and setting his hands on top of the table. "Why now, all of a sudden?"

"Why should we know?" the middle brother asked. He shrugged his shoulders and rose a brow. "We surely weren't that close with the lass. Well, not as close as you, of course. If anyone has a clue as to why there's a large stack of letters on our table, it's definitely you. Unless Ori's got something he didn't tells about. Huh, little brother?" The middle dwarf turned his attention towards the youngest, Ori, who stiffened and shook his head.

"No! I know nothing of this. I-I don't, I swear!"

"Of course you wouldn't know, Ori," the eldest said, shooting a glare towards the other. "Don't listen to anything Nori has to say, anyways."

Nori gave a noise in protest but the elder ignored him while Ori gave an apologetic look his way. The mithril haired dwarf began to pace again, thinking aloud.

"Something bad must have happened for her or someone to suddenly send letters like this. Especially ones that weren't written one right after the other. If something bad didn't happen, then maybe it was a mistake. If it was we should send it back. But if it was on purpose, what's the purpose to even sending it in the first place..." the elder trailed off, face stern as he continued to think of possibilities.

Ori, who had given into his curiosities, brought out the newer looking parchment that was placed on top. It was written recently and obviously was rushed, as the ink was splattered along the parchment as if he brought the quill down without dabbing the excessive ink back into the pot. It was addressed to Dori, the elder brother, like the rest of the letters. Realizing that his brother was still in deep thought and Nori was no doubt zoning out and picking at his fingernails with one of his daggers, Ori carefully opened the seal, which was different than the others, and began to read:

 

_**Dear Master Dori or whoever shall be reading this letter,** _

__

_**I do hope that I'm not imposing too much with this rather large parcel of letters written by my mother for whoever knows how long, but I felt that it was, despite how it wasn't entirely in my power to even think of such a suggestion, time to send these to their rightful owner or owners.** _

_**Whatever has been written to the receiver I do not know, for I am a Baggins and I do not peek inside anyone else's mail for that is a Sackville-Baggins sort of thing and I am no such person, so if they hold bad tidings, I do sincerely apologize. But I felt it dire to send these to it's recipients for their, and for mine, own good. For, as you see, I am nearly positive that whoever is the owner to these letters is the father that helped my mother conceive me, though I am not sure if he has already known that.** _

_**If I did impose, I apologize greatly, and if you do not feel the need to read these letters, than do send them back. I'm sure my mother wouldn't mind if I hid them back where I found them without her knowing I took them without her permission.** _

_**To good health and prospering smials,** _

_**Bilbo Baggins, son of Belladonna and Bungo Baggins** _

_**The Shire** _

 

Ori's eyes widen as he rereads the small note three more times before he squeaks and manages to catch the attention of both his brothers. Nori quickly snatches the note from his little brother's hands and reads it as well, laughing loudly as Dori puffs up and takes the parchment as well. His small spout of annoyance is quickly washed away as he blanched at the note.

"Does that mean what I think it means?!" Ori asks, getting up from his seat. He watches, closely, as Dori sets the note down onto the table and glances at the rest of the letters. "That... There's a possibility...?"

"Now, let's not jump to any conclusions," Dori started. "We need all the information we can get first... I'm... I'm going to take a look at these letters... Please excuse me..."

And Dori was out of the room, towards his own, with an armful of letters and his face grim.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not very good with accents so unless I'm 100% sure that they're accent is a certain way, then I'll write it as best as I can. If not, then, get used to seeing normal English/British slang...


	3. Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dwarf arrives at Bag End...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I haven't updated in a while but I swear I had good reason to; I'm graduating high school next Monday so I had a bunch of things to get done these past few weeks, writers block to get over, and I had a very emotional day (like, I actually cried. I don't cry very often. But I had to see someone I know crying and realized they were crying because they just left one of the best teachers I've ever had and then I cried cause I realized I was leaving them too and it kept going for what felt like hours...)
> 
> In any case, I'll do my best to keep a regular updating schedule over the summer and while I'm in Japan too (only for about two weeks so it wouldn't be too much of a hassle, really) so expect more updates (hopefully)
> 
> Enjoy 
> 
> :)

 

 

Bilbo had completely forgotten about his letter two months after he sent it with the bounder. He had originally fretted for hours each day, wondering if he was over stepping his boundaries with his blood father or if the letters would even grace his home. He wondered if the dwarf would send Bilbo a letter back, to inform his (probably) illegitimate son that they'll never truly meet because he already had a family and he didn't need a bastard son.

His mother and the work his father left him before his death had kept him busy enough to sidetrack him. There were plenty of hobbits living under their management, so collecting their fees and maintaining Bag End with his mother were distracting enough, along with keeping the garden looking beautiful and neat and the rest of the daily chores his dear mother, Belladonna, had left him before she went down to the market after second breakfast.

This pattern kept going for five months after he left the bounder to the rest of his lunch; three months after the auburn haired dwobbit forgot about his and his mothers letters entirely.

His mother was sitting besides the fireplace, a needle in hand, while Bilbo worked outside on the garden a little bit after four. The sun was bright and the entirety of Hobbiton was, for the first time in a while, quiet. Bilbo guessed that Lobelia and her awful husband had taken a small walk around the Shire and for once was leaving he and his mother alone. It was relaxing...

...Until a shadow passed over him, covering up the sun and himself. Whoever it was, they were definitely larger than any Sackville-Baggins and, well, any hobbit he ever knew. Looking up from the daffodils, he met eyes with a race he's never seen before but has definitely been told about: a dwarf.

"Good afternoon, Master Dwarf," he said, getting up from the dirt and taking off his mothers old gloves. He studied the dwarf while he continued to greet them. They, like he noticed before, were taller than most he's seen, though only by a foot or so, meaning he must be at least seven inches taller than Bilbo himself, who was taller than the average hobbit and almost as tall as his great, great and many more greats uncle, though he doubts he would ever be able to ride a horse any time soon. Their hair, as described vaguely in his and his father's books, was intricately braided and neatly piled on their head and the rest was leading down to his chin, which the dwobbit guessed to be his beard, which was as beautiful as he. Bilbo couldn't describe the color, though it shined brightly as the sunlight bounced off the glimmering strands, creating a golden halo around their head. There wasn't much to be side about their attire, though Bilbo was sure there was something much more magnificent underneath the dark blue traveling cloak the dwarf wore. 

"Good afternoon, young hobbit," the dwarf replied. "This is Bag End, correct?" The dwarf, with gleaming hair, had a gruff and elegant voice that appeared to match the rest of his appearance, minus the cloak.

"That is indeed correct. Is there something you needed from Bag End? I apologize, but I'm afraid I simply can't remember having any business concerning a dwarf, nor am I expecting any to show any time soon, seeing as they rarely show up in the Shire as it is. Though, not saying that there's anything wrong with a dwarf appearing near Hobbiton, of course, for at times many do, indeed get lost while wondering a very simple road as is, but I'm sure you are not lost. Oh, dear me, I seem to be rambling...." Bilbo trailed off, trying to think of any interaction he's had recently, business wise, between himself and a dwarf when he went to Bree only a few weeks prior, but nothing seemed to come to mind.

"Indeed. If you wouldn't mind, lad, I would like to speak with the lady of the house, Belladonna Took?"

"Of... course. Please, follow me," Bilbo said. Something tickled at the back of his mind, but he pushed it back as he opened the garden gate and lead him to the round yellow door of his smial, freshly painted, and preceding on letting him inside his and his mother's home.

Bilbo turned to face the dwarf as soon as he shut the round door. "Please leave your travel things by the door or hang them on the hook while I get her, Master Dwarf." Politely excusing himself, as Bungo Baggins proudly taught him to do so, he left his guest to himself before preparing to enter the reading room, where his mother sat in her chair, needle and thread set off to the side as she read one of her newer books, lost in her own world.

At this point, the letters flashed through his mind, sending his thoughts reeling quickly, and he briefly wondered if somehow, this dwarf in Bag End, after all these months, was involved with those many letters he had barely remembered sending until then. Even possibly, could he... no. A Baggins of Bag End does not jump to any unnecessary conclusions without any further information and Bilbo would do no such thing. Crushing any hope he had building in his chest, he gained his mother's attention.

"Mother, there happens to be someone in the front room wishing to speak with you," he said softly. "I've left them to put away their travel things, though I don't think it would be proper to let them wait for too long."

Belladonna rose a brow, closing her book and folding the quilt she had settled across her lap, and questioned, "Do you know who they are? Cause if it's Lobelia and her dreadful oaf of a husband again wanting to get even a lick of my silver, you know already not to let them in the house, whether their family or not."

"No. They're a dwarf."

The older woman (for while she may be past middle aged by now she was still as youthful and beautiful as she had ever been in her younger years, with tight golden curls, large green eyes and freckles across her beige skin) seemed to stiffen in her chair, a small bout of panic barely passing through those emerald eyes of hers, before she forced herself to relax and straighten herself out. Getting up from her chair, she quickly made her way to the front of their smial.

The dwarf was standing still near the door, gazing around at what he could see and staring intensely at portraits that hung neatly on the tan walls. He had taken off the cloak, which laid hanging on the mahogany coat rack, leaving him in much nicer clothes, as Bilbo had correctly guessed. One could look at the dwarf and wonder if he was bathing in jewels, as he wore a fine silk tunic (blue, to match his eyes) that had small sapphires sewn into the fabric, creating a glittering detail that left people gazing. While his trousers were plain and had specks of mud, for long travel does indeed do that, they fit spectacularly with the more lavish traveling boots and belt that seemed to complete the entire ensemble.  

"Good afternoon, Master dwarf," Belladonna spoke, her words coming out slow and careful. Her eyes flickered over the dwarf's figure, emerald meeting lapis for a few extra seconds before the hobbit's flickered away. "How can I assist you?"

"I wish to speak with you."

"I understand that, but what exactly about? What exactly brings you here to my smial out of no where?"

Bilbo watched as his mother and the stranger interacted. He recognized Belladonna's posture, one she used for unwanted guests and he wondered briefly if he made a mistake in bringing him inside, though since the dwarf had yet to do something to him, Bilbo didn't see the need to turn him away earlier. As for the other, while the dwarf stood stiff and straight, his eyes betrayed him, something Bilbo couldn't exactly identify.

"I received a package a few months ago, containing unsent letters in your handwriting and one singular letter in different scrawl," the dwarf started. "It took a few days, but I read them all, over and over, and while you did leave me all those years ago, I wish you told me..."  

"Told you what, exactly?" Belladonna rose a brow, though her eyes flickered over to Bilbo who was standing in the doorway between the two, a suspicious glare sent directly to him. He could feel guilt, hope, confusion, and another mix of smaller emotions bubble inside him and he kept glancing at the dwarf, noting physical similarities he didn't notice before and he could feel his Baggins side scolding him profusely for jumping to further conclusions. 

"That you were with child. If you were ashamed of being with a dwarf and having--"

" _I_ wasn't ashamed of anything!" Belladonna raised her voice, bristling at the thought. "I was protecting you from further responsibility and stress! You think I wanted you to baby me, to ignore your family for me? I was a burden and I wasn't going to continue being a burden. When I left in the first place I didn't even know I was with child until I was halfway between Ered Luin and Hobbiton and by then I knew you probably wouldn't have time to take care of a babe, nonetheless the rest of your family!"

"You were no burden, Belladonna, and I would have gladly raised my child, half-breed or not for I know you were probably going to bring that up as well, for he is my flesh and blood as well as my brothers are," the dwarf didn't raise his voice, as he kept a calm composure despite the emotions that began crawling along his face. "I would have gladly taken care of you, Bella, as you were always--"

Bilbo decided he had enough of confusion and cleared his throat, alerting the two of his presence immediately. The dwarf, who's glowing hair had faded to a soft white silver in the dim lighting of the hallway, seemed to soften in his direction as his mother still looked stern, a warning for a talk later between the two of them still in her eyes.

"I apologize, again, Master Dwarf," he began," and mother, but I'm more than lost. Who exactly... I mean, I have an idea, but... Whom is this, mother?" Bilbo directed his question to the one person he knew would finally admit the answer. He could have asked the dwarf, but his mother, the one who originally had the letters from months before and the one who knew them best, was the right person.

"We, young man, will be having a very serious talk later," his mother began, crossing her arms beneath her chest, but she grumbled something under her breath before sighing and answering. 

"Bilbo, this man is your blood father, Dori of the Blue Mountains. I know I probably should have told you sooner that Bungo wasn't trul--"

"I knew." Bilbo cut her off, his voice soft but sharp. "It wasn't too hard to figure out, really..." All Bilbo could do, though, was stare at the dwarf. Dori. His father. His father was truly here, in Bag End, to meet him? His mother? 

The entire ordeal was a bit overwhelming and much to his chagrin, he blacked out as his brain shut down in shock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please bear with me on dwarvish male clothes. I'm not in tune with the male fashion (I could say the same with female fashion but it's much better than the male version) so some things could be repeated.


	4. Dwarrow... Dwarrow Everywhere (sorta)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Expectations have been thrown out of the window...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am actually surprised at how many people are actually enjoying this fiction, considering I don't update that often... Maybe that's the secret? Find a tag that's popular but not written about often and don't publish constantly... interesting....
> 
> I tried with the summary, I really did, but I can't really do summaries without explaining the entire thing... Probably why I write stories so often :P
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> :)

 

 

Bilbo felt as if he had all of his little cousins use his head in conkers when he managed to groggily wake up. He groaned a bit, stiffly bringing his hand to rest against the bump that was now situated embarrassingly at the back of his head, wincing as he felt along the bruise that was no doubt going to be there for a while. He could barely remember exactly  _why_ he fainted, though if there was a solid reason he was sure it must have been important. But he did remember exactly whom caused him to faint in the first place and how it lead up to the whole fainting incident in general.

His father.

Blood father, really, but his father nonetheless. 

To be completely truthful, Bilbo was expecting a dwarf much bigger, buffer and gruffer, if that made any particular sense. Someone who had long tresses that cascaded down their back in intricate braids that seem mortally impossible to craft unless you were a God, the color of smooth amber, definitely a shade better than his own poor excuses for curls. A large nose, fit for someone who was hardened by years of battle and traveling across Middle Earth, with scares covering darkened skin that had seen many hours in the sun. Someone who could lift two boulders effortlessly while chugging down an ale that dripped down a messy beard that covered a chiseled chest.

What had managed to find them barely touched how Bilbo imagined him. A dwarf who, while built nearly as well as his vision once his travel cloak had been hung, had clearly spent more time working with his hands indoors rather than out; pale skin with worry lines evident on his face, though he aged fairly well if one were to guess his age by the pure silver of his hair, which was as intricate as Bilbo envisioned. He wasn't terribly tall, definitely taller than a Man, but since Bilbo had never truly met a dwarf up close he had figured they were nearly on par with one. He had broad shoulders, as was expected, and a large nose indeed, nearly matching his own, which he undoubtedly inherited. It took time to realize that they looked more alike than the dwarf Bilbo had originally thought was his blood relative, and he felt better knowing that he wasn't related to someone who could be easily mistaken as an actual god. 

It wasn't hard to figure out that he had been moved from the entrance to the hallway back to his bedroom. His mother must have directed the dwarf, Dori (was that his name? Bilbo couldn't remember much about what happened a minute or so before he hit his head on the floor of Bag End), to his room and changed him into his nightclothes herself before being the proper hostess a hobbit must be, despite bad blood between them. Oh, he hoped it wasn't too bad of blood. He didn't want his efforts to properly know his dwarf side of his family to go to waste. Maybe it will be just be tension in the air while they're with each other and when he's by himself with each of them, it would seem as if the other didn't even realize the other existed for a small amount of time... He hoped, at least...

The auburn haired dwobbit slowly got out of his bed, taking time to pause in his steps so he didn't fall over and back onto the floor before he managed to put on some proper clothes, patting out any wrinkles in the button up, before shuffling out of his room. It was a bit brighter than usual, though he concluded it must have something to do with the knock to his skull, but he managed to make his way to the kitchen. 

His mother was already shuffling about, making the first breakfast of the day, her curls already pinned back as she cooked. The dwarf was no where in sight, whom he hoped wasn't a trick of the eye now and hadn't just been some poor hobbit he unfortunately mistakened for a dwarf and embarrassed himself even further with rumors that should soon be spreading through the Shire. 

"Good morning, mother," he greeted, beginning to wash up a bit to help with the cooking, as per usual. "I hope you had a good nights rest." He didn't try mentioning the dwarf, in case he really was confused.

"Oh, I better than I thought it would be, considering your fainting spell. If I didn't have help, I would be the poor soul that had to drag your heavy body back to your room  _and_ be the one to put you into your nightclothes like a fauntling all over again." Belladonna sounded as if she was smiling behind her words, but her son couldn't see her face as she continued to focus on her work. Instead he brought out the bread the two of them had made the day before and began to slice what was left to be used as toast.

"Help?" Bilbo pressed lightly.

"Oh yes. Surely you didn't hit your head too hard that you forgot all about Dori coming after tea time," the blonde woman shifted to look at her son, a smirk plastered on her face, turning her soft features impish. "You even missed dinner and supper, so I'm surprised your tummy isn't growling any louder than it is." Her face turned thoughtful, her mischievous look still appearing in her glittering eyes as she continued to think aloud. "Though I supposed we should make more breakfast than we normally do, considering we have three more mouths to feed this morning."

Bilbo's eyes widened. "Three?"

Belladonna nodded. "Oh, of course. Dori's brothers managed to catch up sometime after you fainted. They looked a bit disappointed that they couldn't get to meet their nephew, of course, but the results after the wait are usually the sweetest."

"I... have even more uncles?"

"Yes dear," she hummed, turning back to her work. "You might as well bring out that wheel of cheese we've been saving for special guests from the pantry for me? Oh, and set the table with the plates that we don't  _mind_ breaking? Knowing dwarrow I just know something would break if we used one of our special china. And hide the silver for me too, while you're at it. Your Uncle Nori has a terrible case of Lobelia-itus."

 

***

 

It felt awkward for Bilbo, at the table, sitting at the end of the table while his mother and Dori sat on one side and two new dwarrow sat on the other. There was normally a comfortable silence between his family and he whenever they had breakfast, Bungo never being a talker and Belladonna usually silent and grumpy until second breakfast rolled around. This morning there was excited chatter being passed between the four of them while Bilbo sat there, wide eyed and sawing through the same bit of ham he had been for the last four minutes. It was odd to see his mother so energized this early. He wondered if she even slept last night at all.

After finally realizing what he had been doing and taking a bite, he continued to study the other dwarrow, his uncles.

Nori (or would he prefer Uncle Nori?) must have had something on his mind that he needed to constantly eye the finer pieces of furniture and decorations with an eye that he'd seen on Lobelia too many times to officially count. Bilbo noticed that despite being still (and loud), his left leg kept jumping in place, moving rapidly while the rest of his body stayed perfectly at ease. He and the younger dwarf (and himself, if he might add) had amber hair in different shades that kept reminding Bilbo that they were probably actually related. His was definitely longer and straighter and he wasn't sure if Nori meant to look like a star or not with his hair, but it was definitely eye catching. His eyes were bright blue, brighter than both of his brothers actually, and they held more wrinkles around his forehead; worry lines if one were to speculate, maybe frustration. He wasn't dressed as lavishly as his elder brother, more comfortable looking despite how baggy the tunic and pants seemed to be and Bilbo wasn't denying that there might be lots of pockets sewn inside to hide things on his person or something similar.

The other, Ori (Uncle Ori? What should he call them? What would they prefer? Oh he's so jumbled right now...), seemed more friendly, that was for sure. He had the shortest and the most simple of hair between the three of them. It was short and had four braids all together, two on each side of his head, though his beads definitely seemed to signify something very important. He wore knitted clothing underneath the cotton clothes and wore a bright purple scarf that already had stains that matched those on his hands. He had explained earlier, when he and Bilbo met for the first time, that he was training to become a scribe and was close to finishing his apprenticeship and he wanted to go on a journey and scribe the history that would hopefully be published and last for centuries past his time. He had blushed as he spoke of this and tried to ask Bilbo something but was interrupted by the call for breakfast.

Dori was still the most intriguing, though that was by default considering the fact that Bilbo and he were the closest in relation between them all (excluding his dear mother, of course). Bilbo had yet to learn anything new about him and he wanted to learn from the source himself, so he didn't dare question anything about Dori to his brothers, in case they came out completely biased. He had enough books in Bungo's library that were biased about other people and not enough autobiographies about the real deal. He trusted those the most.

"Bilbo, darling, is everything the matter?" Belladonna's voice cut through his thoughts and Bilbo realized that he was cutting his ham without thinking for the third time that morning and he flushed.

"Yes, yes. Just... thinking, really. Nothing too troublesome."

"The lad's thinking, Bella," Nori smirked. "Heard once from you that that usually meant bad things if a boy was thinking too much. Could cause trouble if they did such a thing."

His mother rolled her eyes. "That was directed at you, you dunderhead. Everyone who knew you long enough could tell that if you began to so much as think longer than a few minutes that something was up."

"You wound me, mistress." The man pretended to hold his heart, bringing the other to his face as if he was holding back tears. "I thought you loved me. Never have I thought that Belladonna Took would hurt me so."

"It's Belladonna Baggins, if you knew what was good for you," his mother snapped, though any heat that was supposed to be behind it was small and barely felt, seeing as she was trying hard not to smile. Bilbo could tell that this was a new side to his mother he hasn't seen, a strange sight, and he had no idea how to particularly feel about it. It seemed as if she had de-aged twenty years, maybe more, looking younger and fresher. Besides her Dori didn't look as travel ridden as last night, though that could have been due to a nice bath to get rid of all the grime he had collected over the past two month or so.

"Right, forgot ye married someone. Where is he, by the way?" Nori asked.

Bilbo saw the stern look, bordering on disapproval, that the silver haired brother sent the other, as if telling him he overstepped a boundary no one should cross. If the star-haired dwarrow saw it, he didn't acknowledge it at all. Ori looked as if he wanted to scoot his chair away from his brother, in case someone caused him to combust, but knew that it would be too obvious and rude to do so. 

"He passed away a few years ago, a little while after Bilbo became of age for hobbit standards," Belladonna began. Bilbo took a sip of his juice, placing his fork and knife down besides his plate, not feeling particularly hungry anymore. "Died in his sleep. Healers think it had to do with the hit to the head only a few days before, caused blood to clot dangerously in his brain before we could do anything about it." At this she took a hold of Bilbo's hand under the table, a silent way of comforting him. "We all took it pretty hard. But Bungo's with Yavanna now, as he should have always been. He was a purer soul than anyone else in this darn place. Never talked about anyone behind their backs like certain Sackville-Bagginses."

"I'm sorry about your loss, lassie," Nori said. The table grew quiet and Bilbo felt as if this was more odd than it was when noise had accompanied the soft clinking of silverware on glass. "Shouldn't have asked."

" _Loss is nothing else but change, and change is Nature's delight*_ ," Bilbo said. When everyone looked at him, he flushed again. "I read it in a book in father's library. It was dog-eared."

"Aye, it's a tragedy that you both lost someone close to you," Ori said. "But it's a new chapter in your life and your story hasn't ended yet. You just have to keep reading."

They were quiet again for a few more minutes before a small, softer conversation started up again. By this time they had completely forgotten about second breakfast until Belladonna's stomach growled in protest and she rushed to quickly get a snack from the pantry, knowing that the dwarrow and her son were probably still a little (if not a lot) full from first breakfast.

By then Bilbo had opened up enough to ask questions to Dori, wondering about where they were from, how he had met his mother and the like. He had learned that they were from the Blue Mountains, Ered Luin, a long and beautiful mountain range that was the closest to the Shire. That his mother was with a wizard the first time they met and that she had a keen eye for stitchwork. That he was a merchant back in the mountains and that he and his family were supposedly related to royalty, though Bilbo scoffed at the idea that one set of family had to "rule" over an entire race (the Thaine was nothing of the sort as a ruler, more as a peacekeeper), and that meant that there was a possibility of BIlbo gaining the seat on the throne if that many people died in the next couple of years. He had hoped nothing of the sort would happen, seeing as it would be terrible to wish death upon so many dwarrow and the like and because he knew he had no head for politics, despite his uncle on his mother's side arguing the exact opposite. He had no ambition to even try for ruling anything anytime soon anyhow.

Around lunch his mother had left the four of them in the house, heading down to market to grab a few items she said she would get that morning but had gotten distracted. A late lunch was fine for the five of them and it left time for Bilbo and his dwarven family to get more acquainted with each other without a form of "mediator" to soften the awkward silences.

"How old are you anyways?" Dori asked him as Nori went around to explore the smial. Ori was sitting with them, in one of the guest chairs, sitting with his hands folded on his stomach near the fire.

"I turned seven and thirty on my last birthday," Bilbo answered. Dori was silent before he nodded.

"That adds up to about the last time I saw your mother. I have no doubt she left sometime after we... well, I'm sure you already know what most likely happened."

"Yes, and while I know it's perfectly natural, the thought of your parents even participating in coitus isn't exactly what I enjoy thinking about. Plus, imagining it is usually what happens after the thought gets into your head."

"Walking in on it's even worse," Nori piped in as he walked into the room, hands in his pocket. "I mean, I was wondering what Dori and Bella were doing but seri--"

"Nori!" Ori squeaked, throwing one of his gloves at his brother, who merely laughed and plopped himself down onto the last empty seat in the sitting room. "We didn't even want to know that you saw it in the first place!"

"I didn't even see anythin'!" the dwarf reubuked but he couldn't hide the smile that kept showing up. "You lads should have seen your faces! It was hilarious."

"Oh, yes, it will be considered hilarious when Belladonna hears about it," Dori said, glaring over at his brother.

Nori's smile dropped slightly. "What you're not gonna try anything?"

"I never have to when Bella's around."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *A quote from Marcus Aurelius


	5. Bonding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a long time since I updated huh? And that means a long time since I've written for the Hobbit... I'm sorta sorry but I went through a period of needing to just read instead of right and that also included trying to work for the first time as well. So forgive me for being so late? Please?
> 
> I've put the same message on my HP stories and SP story that I'll be trying to update my stories at least once a week and if not something came up that prevented me from doing so. I probably won't do that for my last story (which I'm tempted to delete) so that's going to be ignored until further notice.
> 
> I'm still surprised that so many people appreciate this. When I first started I didn't know where I was going with this, just liked the plot bunny that was introduced and figured "Hey, that sounds super fun to write about!" And it's also the first plot bunny I tried doing.
> 
> So long story short, I just wanted to thank all my readers for being with me on this so far and I'm happy that so many of you are enjoying it.
> 
> :)

 

 

It was a peaceful three days of catching up between Belladonna and the three full blooded dwarrow before they focused on Bilbo. Not that they weren't before, it was just bonding between two lost lovers and the ones that saw them grow and Bilbo fully respected that. A part of him willingly stood to the side, happy to see the grim smile that his mother had slapped onto her face since the death of Bungo slip into the ones he grew up with while another felt hurt at being ignored. The curse of being an only child, though it wasn't like Bilbo knew any other hobbits in the area that grew up without any siblings so he could have someone to relate to.

On the fourth day of their visit, Bilbo's mother left the smial to go the market by herself. Bilbo offered to go, as did Dori, both unknowingly sharing the same facial expressions that were pointed in Belladonna's direction. She hesitated, too amazed at their similarities now that Bilbo had grown out of his baby face just earlier that year, but she shoo'd the two of them off to bond as father and son. Then they were left alone in the foyer of the smial, their faces set in different expressions; Dori's in hidden excitement and nerves, Bilbo's in secret dread.

What if they had nothing in common? His mother and uncles had said on multiple occasions on how similar they were but that was mostly on the surface. Bilbo understood that he had his father's nose, his hair, his broad shoulders and uncanny ability to lift nearly anything without breaking a sweat. Nearly everything else was his mother, which his own father had commented up: his smile, his eyes, her stature... If it weren't for the fact that he was taller than her and had different hair, his father and uncle were sure he could pass off as a male version of Belladonna Baggins nee Took. 

Bilbo didn't know much about his sire, to be completely honest. Nothing deep enough that didn't penetrate what he could see on the surface. He didn't know Dori's hobbies other than the fact that he was a merchant in the Blue Mountains so maybe, Bilbo guessed, it had something to do with his hands? Which was very broad considering most dwarrow's "hobbies" involved their hands. There was no way it had anything to do with gardening (which Bilbo learned from his mother's story about how he absolutely destroyed any plant he's ever been gifted for his lack of green thumb) so Bilbo couldn't bond with his father on familiar soil. 

"I guess we should listen to your mother, Bilbo," Dori said, after the two of them were standing there for a good five minutes. "Bella will know if we don't. Is there... a place you'd prefer we sit down and have a chat? Maybe a cuppa?"

He agreed and quickly made his way to the kitchen to set the kettle on the stove, only to see that tea had already been prepared. A frown marred his face but he knew that it was his mother pushing their little session to go faster. Bilbo guessed she knew about Bilbo's sudden reluctance.

The dwobbit placed the tea set in his father's study, where two chairs were set up besides the large wall of books, and began to pour the liquid into the dainty china. From the smell, Bilbo guessed it was Darjeeling tea but he wouldn't be completely sure until he tried it. He gestured to Dori, who had followed him through the entire procedure, to sit on the seat closest to the window, which Bilbo would admit was the best spot for a late afternoon read, and once he sat, Bilbo followed. 

They were swamped with silence soon after. Neither men knew where to start exactly. Bilbo's mind, which was usually filled to the brim with thoughts that would keep him up for hours on some nights, was blank for the first time in years. All he could feel was the butterflies flapping erratically in his stomach. As for Dori, well, he couldn't stop fiddling with the cup in his hands, trying desperately to find something he could talk about. At the same time, they took an awkward sip of their tea.

"Is this Darjeeling?" Dori asked. He took a small sniff from the tea. "It taste incredible."

Bilbo didn't confirm right away, his tongue chasing the fleeting flavour of the tea his mother had left. As soon as he was sure, he nodded. "A version of it, yes."

"I've never had it before. Well, not this kind. It's hard to get Darjeeling tea in the Blue Mountains, well, not the black tea version. That's too common to get and while it's still exquisite in flavour, it can get old." Dori explained, taking another sip and now examining the difference. "You said this was a variation?"

"It's very popular in Hobbiton at the moment, but it's called Darjeeling Oolong. Much thicker than the others and slightly sweeter, I find it to be. It's also prepared differently. Some of the healers believe it's also much healthier, but they don't pressure us to use it all the time, for it's also very expensive during the winter season."

This lead to an entire conversation about different teas, some Bilbo had indeed tried and some Dori hadn't. Before they knew it they had moved onto different objects of interest and found many similarities. They both enjoyed writing. While they weren't as passionate as Ori, who aimed at being a scribe, they could appreciate the finer arts behind it. Like calligraphy, which excited Bilbo so much that he hopped over to the desk where he found his most treasured art pieces. Dori felt pride swell in his chest as he looked at the different array of art, from calligraphy pieces he couldn't understand for they were in Hobbitish and portraits of plants and even people. 

Dori had learned so much from his son, a son he missed seeing grow for most of his life, and in turn Bilbo learned about his father more intimately and even heard some rather outrageous stories about his uncles. They even shared some secrets that they didn't realize they shared until Belladonna came back hours later and ushered them for supper to wash up, and both found that it didn't bother them. Bilbo was assured that his sire wouldn't blurt out anything and he knew that, unlike his cousins and other relatives, he wouldn't gossip about anything that was given to him with the other giving him full trust.

They ended the day with Dori, Ori and Nori pressing their foreheads softly against Belladonna's and Bilbo's, wishing each other goodnight before they parted to rest for the next day.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not entirely happy with this chapter and feel the need to do something else with the plot line. If any of you have suggestions, I'll take it in consideration and try and implement it :)
> 
> A bit disappointed that this couldn't be longer but I needed to get something out there so maybe it'll be a break from the previous one since it's a bit long... Or maybe some of you that have waited so long will be mad at me for taking so long but having something so short... SORRY! D'X Please don't hate me <:3


	6. Hidden Gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for those that commented on the last chapter and gave me some ideas to continue with this plot! It meant a lot to me that so many of you are filled with such wonderful ideas! :)
> 
> To AJ_Johann, I'm gladly taking suggestions for Bilbo pairings. While the original plot bunny suggest Kili/Ori, a small part of me is screaming no because I enjoy Kili/Bilbo more. But then there's also Fili and Bofur to consider and maybe even Bifur if I'm feeling balls-y... I just really enjoy pairing Bilbo with everyone, really...
> 
>  
> 
> Anyways, again, thanks to those that commented!  
> I should let you all read the story...
> 
> :)

 

 

After Belladonna left her boys alone to get better acquainted, life in the Baggins household continued on like it had before, with the exception that Bilbo and Dori spent much more time being around together, discussing things like tea or specific trades. When it came to learning more about his dwarven side of things, Bilbo was certainly intrigued.

"So dwarrow have  _really_ been travelling place to place for nearly a century?" Bilbo questioned. "I just thought that was a myth that was told to us from some of the Rangers, to try and prevent any Hobbits from travelling further past Bree..."

"It ain't no myth, laddie," Nori said, slamming his mug of ale down on the table. "The fact that those Rangers of yours think it is is pure bullshite!"

"Nori! Languauge!" Dori snapped. "And it's not "'ain't', it's 'is not' or 'isn't'. I've taught you better."

Nori just rolled his eyes and leant over to his nephew. "I'll have you know, Bilbo, that our King will one day head back to Erebor with an army of dwarrow marching along side him, ready to take on the dragon that took our mountain, our home!" Another gulp of the strong hobbit ale went down the amber haired dwarf's throat, quenching his temporary thirst. "And once he does, the line of Durin will once again prosper!" Nori cheered. 

"That includes us, too, Bilbo," Dori continued. "A long time ago, through many ancestors, our own many great-grandmother came from royalty. Even if she wasn't due to take the thrown, being only a cousin to the main line, we are still qualified." Dori looked quite proud at this fact and Bilbo knew he should be as well. They had talked about this before but never in full detail. 

Bilbo glanced over at Ori, who looked to be somewhat interested, but not entirely. As if he's heard this story many times before and could tell exactly what was to happen after every telling. The dwobbit jumped as Nori slammed his ale back onto the poor table, agitation flashing across his face. Oh dear... Bilbo wished his mother hadn't left to visit his cousin Dahlia who happened to visiting Hobbiton. She had left only that morning, leaving Bilbo to take care of their guests once again, though this time it was more welcomed then the last. Now, he wasn't sure how to deal with a rather angry uncle. Belladonna was fully capable at calming him down after one of his brothers or even himself riled him up but Bilbo was unsure if he even had the same gift.

"That's not entirely true and you know it," Nori grumbled. "She was the outcast of the family, just like we are."

"Nori..." Dori warned, hard steel in his blue eyes. He opened his mouth to begin to berate him but Bilbo jumped in, starting a new topic so he didn't have to see where this fight was undoubtedly heading: a broken table and the disappointed look of Belladonna Baggins nee Took. Oh how he hated those eyes. He's only seen them a couple of times in his youth. They weren't as strong as his father's, which happened more often as Bilbo grew but he didn't take any negative feelings to heart. Bilbo understood that his parents were trying. It wasn't easy raising a half hobbit hybrid.

"So is there anything interesting in our family? I've read about stone sense being quite common among dwarrow, though even that's very hard to find in books that aren't in your language," Bilbo started. "I know that each race has something unique about them. There's been stories of Hobbits being able to speak to plants or being able to tell the whether as easily as counting the number of fingers and toes each person has. I've heard that some elves came from Fae and that men can lift nearly anything!"

"Our family has great strength, Bilbo," Ori answered, seeing as his brothers were still staring heatedly at each other. "Nori doesn't really have it but our mother was one of the strongest. Dori takes after her the most but Nori looks like her more than the three of us. I have it too. I wouldn't be too surprised if you had the ability as well." Bilbo blinked and thought back to see if he ever could lift anything better than any of the other hobbits in Hobbiton or even the Shire. Nothing really came to mind. "There is such a thing called stone sense, but only those like the King under the Mountain have it. Royalty mostly. Sometimes those that spend so much time in the mines can gain something similar but it's more instinct based rather than a learnt skill."

"Anything else?" Bilbo was now hooked. "What else can dwarrow do?"

"We have a keen eye for jewelry, especially those who were destined to make them or sell them," Nori grumbled, finally submitting. He focused his attention on his adorable (yes, Nori thought in his head, definitely adorable) nephew. "We can tell the difference between a fake and the real deal. Some can even identify who made what if they're particularly skilled."

"Then there's those that have what you call 'jack of all trades'," Dori put in. He still looked a bit miffed, his arms crossed over his chest, but he leant back in his chair, relaxed. "They can do nearly anything easily, but the downside is they can't really choose one to stick to, so they're left wandering between all that they can do. Some thought Nori was one of them, seeing as how talented he was at nearly everything. I still think that, but clearly he thinks being a thief is his calling."

"Oi, it is!"

"You don't really get a steady income-"

"Like being a merchant does?"

"I make a good li-" Bilbo just sighed as the two began to argue, this time giving up at trying to intervene. They were going to fight anyways... So instead he continued to focus on Ori, who looked like he was hoping something would fall from the sky and squish them all to end his suffering.

"Do you mind if I show you something?" Bilbo asked suddenly. He had something in his mind, something he hadn't thought about in years, not since his father died and he was left taking care of his mother. 

"Of course not, Bilbo," Ori said, getting up and following his small nephew, both going faster than they needed, but they've been seeing and hearing the other two dwarrow argue more than they had the first few days that they were here. Ori knew it was because Nori must have been itching to leave and continue on his adventures or had a job coming up that required him leaving soon, while Dori was just so easy to rile up. Bilbo was sure to know, soon, that Nori was known to be there one day and then disappear the next to show back up after a couple of weeks, sipping a cuppa at their breakfast table. 

The two left the smial, Bilbo leaving a hasty note on the small table in the hallway, easy for Belladonna to find in case she returns home before they do. Which was unlikely, with cousin Dahlia talking your ear off for hours. She was certainly the gossiper in the Took family... One of them.

Bilbo lead his youngest uncle down a winding path, going past many other smials. They were given some odd looks, even though they were used to the three dwarrow living at the Baggin's, it was still odd to see one separated from the others, or even following the heir and soon-to-be lord of the Bagginses. Some of the Brandybucks that still lived near them gave them polite and cheery greetings as they passed by, which Bilbo returned and Ori did as well after giving a hesitant bow first. 

It was still a long time until they made it to where they apparently needed to be, twice with Ori thinking that Bilbo got them lost, and before them sat a rather large boulder. Ori was sure that Bilbo would need help moving it, even going as far as pushing back the knitted sleeves to his sweater but he dropped them when he saw his small nephew easily push the boulder aside without thinking. Bilbo grabbed his hand, which Ori cooed at for he was still a child in dwarrow standards and it was still appropriate and adorable, and tugged him inside.

It was dark, though their eye sight adjusted as they continued to walk into the dark cave, where it began to brighten with every step. Ori figured it must haven't been that dark to begin with but that thought went out the window when they came to a giant room where a single light shown through the top of, landing one a reflective surface that expanded to fit most of the room. 

Ori's jaw dropped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm mean.
> 
>  
> 
> I made ya'll a cliffhanger.


	7. Sense

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeeeeeeeeeeeey.... So, it's been a long time, huh? Sorry about leaving ya'll on a cliffhanger for so long. I'm sure you've forgotten what has happened since it's been a few months since I last updated this, haha...
> 
> Well I'll give you time to go to the last chapter to refresh your memory on what's going on before you read this chapter. It's the last I could do for making all of you lovely dwobbit lovers wait for this terrible chapter.
> 
> Hope you enjoy (and forgive me)
> 
> :)

 

 

"I found it when I was still a fauntling. Some of the other children weren't very nice, considering I was techincally a halfling," Ori bristled at that term, knowing full well that it was an insult for hobbits and dwarrow alike," so I looked for a place to hide when my mother and father weren't enough. So I found this place." Bilbo gestured to the glittering cave.

A mountain of silvery metal was clustered together like quartz, but Ori  _knew_ that it wasn't something like _quartz_. Along the walls, lapis and amethyst danced around each other as it surrounded the natural mountain of mithril that was found deep within the Shire. A couple of rubies were scattered on the ground and water droplets coming from the top of the cave dripped onto the bright crimson color, making the gems glitter in the light reflected off of the slivery hill. 

"The boulder wasn't always there, you know," Bilbo continued. He was tugging nervously at the bottom of his vest. "I put it there, cause I wanted some more privacy. I figured since you and Uncle Nori and Dori were a bit stronger, I could trust you into knowing that part of me..."

"Bilbo..." Ori started, eyes still widened in shock at the literal mine that Bilbo had just so stumbled upon in his youth. "How exactly did you find this? I don't think any hobbit has actually come across a mine of gems like this before..."

Bilbo shrugged. "I just knew, I guess."

Ori knew that some dwarrow held what was commonly called the stone sense, but very often were those who were either miners (which was rare to them as well) or held royal blood. Those that had it could easily find gems hidden beneath the earth or find their way through the stone streets if they ever got lost. The amber haired dwarf wondered if that's what hobbits did when creating the Shire, with their own version of stone sense, seeing as the twisting roads and almost copies of homes being either next-to or above and below each other. He'd have to ask Belladonna, who probably knew more about it then Bilbo.

"You probably found something that most dwarrow would die to find," Ori finally spoke. He pointed at the mountain. "That's mithril, a very rare metal that's only really found in Moria and Númenor, though that last one is speculation. The fact that Hobbiton has something like this, well, it's extraordinary."

"Too bad hobbits don't thinks so," Bilbo said. "It's beautiful though. Not very comfortable to sit or lay on, trust me I've tried when I was younger, but it does create a beautiful scenery for a book."

"Why'd you try to lay on it? It's metal, Bilbo, it won't be comfortable," Ori asked, trying to hide the smile that threatened to come out.

"I was younger, I didn't know better!"

"Still, it's pretty silly to think about."

 

* * *

 

 

Ori and Bilbo decided to not tell the others about their escapade to the hidden mithril cave until it was right to do so. Dori and Nori were still cross with each other and had an awkward air between them when Belladonna or their youngest were in the same room with them. Belladonna, as a mother, knew that something had happened while Bilbo and Ori were out but didn't comment, knowing her son would end up telling her at some point in time.

Weeks continued to go by as the Ri family stayed and got to know more about their new family until it was due time that they returned to the Blue Mountains. They really didn't want to go back, but while the smial of Belladonna and Bilbo Baggins was quite welcoming, their home needed to be tended to as well as continuing on with their work.

Bilbo was sad and a little bit disappointed. He had began to think in his head that his adad and uncles would continue to stay. His mother was beginning to look much better than she had when his father had died and Bilbo too could feel that a part of him was healing with the three dwarrow in their home. He even began to learn how to use a knife in close combat (secretly of course. Belladonna would have a fit if she knew Nori was teaching her son little tricks with a sharp weapon, even if it was to defend himself. _He was too young!_ she would say) and Dori would spend hours with him creating things in the kitchen while the others came and go to try and steal some samples of that day's snacks. Ori would take time out of his writing to teach Bilbo how to knit or read something to him in Khuzdul to try and see if Bilbo could understand and translate it to Westron in the privacy of Bungo's study.

But the dwobbit understood that even he would return home after a long time away from it. If anything, his mother and him could always refer to their home as their second and would always welcome them with open arms once they return.

Their send off was as quick as Belladonna would allow, seeing as she had to talk to each dwarf for nearly ten minutes to try and give them all the reminders she could remember, even if they heard her telling their brother the same ten minutes earlier. Bilbo, too, added onto her list and they both gave something they had created for their safe journey back: caramelized sweets, dried fruits, knitted wear for the days that grew colder as autumn came back to the Shire, and some charcol drawings of Belladonna and himself that Bilbo did his best to draw. He also, secretly, gave Ori a bit of the mithril that he managed to separate from the large pile in his cave, as a bit of an extra item in case Ori really needed it for something. 

The last they would see of their dwarrow, after promising to write, was their waving and smiling faces as they walked down the lane and back to Ered Luin.

 

Neither would know that they wouldn't see each other for thirteen years. The dwarrow wouldn't know that Belladonna had passed on five years after they left, as that letter had been lost when a ranger had been slayed on his way to the Blue Mountains, the parchment left in the snow and soaked with blood. The Baggins wouldn't know that, as the letters slowed down, Ori had signed on to the Company of Throin Oakenshield, followed by his brothers soon after. Bilbo wouldn't know, really, until his father and uncles landed on his door step with ten other dwarrow thirteen years later.

And boy were they going to get an earfull.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't beleive I killed off Belladonna. Well, I actually do... I'm not all that strong with writing her and Dori's relationship, to be honest, so I felt that it would make a bigger impact of her dying to strengthen the familial bond with Dori and Bilbo cause that's what I found to be more interesting with the plotbunny rather than the Belladonna/Dori relationship. I'll still have flashbacks though, of their moments together, and maybe even references to her still somewhat being there with them but I haven't gotten that far. I still need to decide who I want to be with Bilbo haha.


End file.
